Strawberry
by StormyInk
Summary: Engaged, Mikasa & Eren go in search of a dance instructor to help them with their wedding dance and stumble upon Levi. Things fall apart, others come together, and the undeniable attraction between Mikasa and Levi finally gives way.
1. Strawberry Perfume

_Requested by RedBloom. I hope you don't mind that I tweaked your request a little. Mostly, I just hope you like it. _

* * *

Hanji was wiping down a table when a young man walked in. He paused at the sight of the mostly trashed place. "Ah, I—I thought this was a dance studio."

"It is." Hanji cocked her head as she examined the boy. "Doesn't look like one now. Weekends it becomes just a regular old bar." Hanji reached over the counter and grabbed a green flyer. "I'm Hanji, by the way. You looking for dancing lessons?" She handed him the thick sheet then gestured for him to sit down at the bar with her.

The boy smiled a little nervously as he took it, removing his jacket and placing it on the stool beside them before he sat down. "I'm Eren. My fiancé and I wanted to take dancing lessons for our wedding."

Hanji smiled. "A little young to be getting married, aren't you?"

There was a flush of color on his cheeks. "We've known each other since we were kids. She's a good dancer and I'm…I just want to impress her. For once."

"Ah, I see. I'd say if she agreed to marry you you've obviously left quite an impression on her already, haven't you?" She laughed a little to herself. She scooted closer suddenly, murmuring conspiratorially. "You see the bartender over there?"

Eren looked towards the other end of the bar. "Ah…yes, I do."

"His name is Levi."

They watched Levi for several moments. He was scratching at a dried piece of chewed gum on the counter irritably. He'd removed his black vest hours ago and only had his crisp white button shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair kept falling over his furrowed brow, his jaw clenched as he scrubbed.

"He's the dance instructor." Hanji informed him. "I like dancing but I don't have an ounce of rhythm. Levi's the professional."

"Oh…" Eren observed him for a few moments. "Is he…nice?"

Before Hanji could reply a straggling man walked into the bar a little woozily. He surveyed the mostly empty room. "You guys…" The drunk man struggled with his words. "Closed already?"

Levi arched a brow. "We closed a few minutes ago. Kindly see yourself out."

The drunk man, as most drunken men, didn't like being told to leave. "You're a bartender, aren't you?" He clumsily sat himself atop a stool, directly across from Levi. "I want a drink. _Serve_ me."

"Oh dear," Hanji murmured.

Levi remained eerily silent as he observed the man for several, heart pounding moments. Slowly, he placed down his damp hand towel and walked around the bar. He stood directly behind him, and the man turned to face him with squinted eyes. "You want a go at me, you fucking midg—?"

"Levi," Hanji interrupted. "Let me handle—"

Levi suddenly kicked the stool out from underneath him, hard enough to send the man sprawling onto the ground. His head hit the counter on his way down, and before the man could recover Levi delivered another swift kick to the man's gut.

The man curled in on himself, groaning none too quietly.

Levi reached down and grabbed the back of the man's jacket—then proceeded to deftly drag his body out. "Consider yourself lucky they're witnesses."

"Wait," The man pleaded helplessly. "I think—I feel like—"

"Shut up. Your breath is nauseating."

"No, I—" The man suddenly contorted, pushing onto his hands and knees. There was a horrible wet gurgling sound—and he wretched onto the floor miserably. He kept coughing and gagging, the pool of yellow vomit spreading across the floor and over his arms and fingers.

"You've got to be fucking joking." Levi's lips thinned in disgust as he stood over him. "Filthy…" He grabbed his collar, kicking the door open as he bodily threw the man out into the street. "Pig." Levi slammed the door shut.

_Oh well. _"You may not think it at the moment but Levi _is_ kind." Hanji murmured. She smiled reassuringly at Eren's look of disbelief and apprehension. "He's had a rough day. We had a very large scale event tonight and Levi isn't what you'd call a social butterfly."

Levi was scowling at the pool of bile on the ground.

"He won't…kick me, will he?"

Hanji giggled. "Only if you—"

"Oi," They both turned at Levi's call. His narrowed—and slightly frightening—gaze was on Eren. "We're closed. _Out._"

Eren wiped his damp palms on his shirt. "Well, you see, I didn't come for a drink. I came to ask—"

"I could care less." Levi bit out, grabbing a pair of rubber gloves. "Leave or I'll drag you out kicking and screaming."

Eren swallowed thickly. He turned to face Hanji. "Never mind. Thank you."

Hanji grabbed Eren's sleeve and shook her head, stopping his retreat. "He came to ask about the dancing lessons, Levi."

Levi stilled. He kept his gaze carefully averted as he pulled on the long, thick gloves. "I thought we'd all agreed that part of my job was over."

Hanji smiled. "I don't recall ever saying that." She faced Eren. "Swing by tomorrow. Around Seven, perhaps? Is that a good time?"

Eren blinked rapidly. "It doesn't look like he—I don't think that's a good idea. You see he seems rather violent and well Mika—"

"Be here tomorrow at seven." Levi grabbed a mop and bucket. "_Don't_ be late."

Hanji laughed, clapping Eren on his back. "There you go. Tomorrow at seven o'clock. Make sure you wear appropriate shoes."

* * *

Eren stepped onto the sidewalk and surveyed the mostly desolate street. He was nervous about the dancing lessons but he was sure Mikasa would appreciate the gesture—wasn't their anniversary coming up? After all, how many times had they sat against the wall while everyone else had danced because he was so horrible at it? He'd seen the longing in her dark eyes, the way her pale fingers had clutched at her skirt discreetly.

And he'd dragged her down with him as usual.

How many times had people wondered why she'd ever given him a chance? How many times had people asked what the hell she saw in him? She was beautiful and intelligent and skilled and constantly protecting him, helping him in whatever he struggled with—and it made him all too painfully aware of his averageness. Sometimes he wondered if she'd agreed to marry him because she actually _loved_ him or simply because she was _accustomed _to him.

But he really didn't want to think about those things.

He stepped out into the cold air and over the drunken man curled up on the street. It was cold, he thought and remembered that he'd left his jacket on the stool—when the man's arm suddenly shot out and grabbed Eren's boot.

"Hey, let go—"

"Eren?"

Eren paused. He peered down—and inhaled sharply. "Hannes?"

Hannes grinned a little sloppily. "You think you can…help an old man back to his place? I think I lost my keys."

Eren cursed under his breath and bent to help Hannes up. He looked frighteningly malnourished, gaunt, as if he'd aged a lifetime. No wonder he hadn't recognized him. "How long are you going to keep drinking, Hannes?" He felt the anger fill his chest as he helped him back to his own car. "One of these days you're going to get killed—and no one is going to give a damn because you look like some random homeless man."

Hannes smiled at Eren affectionately, his words slurred. "Nothing wrong with a drink every now and then."

Eren shook his head and pushed Hannes into the backseat of his car. He slid into the driver's seat and clicked on his seat belt. "You need to stop this Hannes." He glared at him through the rear view mirror.

"I know." Hannes sprawled across the back seat, covering his face with his filthy hands. "Eren, I know…"

Eren sighed. "I was supposed to go over to Mikasa's apartment but…" He turned the car on. "You can stay over at my place for tonight. You could use a shower and some food. I'll stay with you. We can talk about fixing you up."

Hannes smiled weakly. "Thanks, Eren. You're always trying to take care of me…you're just like Carla."

Eren swallowed past the ache in his throat. "Yeah."

The rest of the car drive was silent.

* * *

Hanji finished drying the last glass, humming along to the soft music she'd put on while they'd cleaned. She watched the young boy help the elderly, inebriated man to his car through the small window. "He's a good kid, isn't he Levi?"

Levi peeled off his gloves with a grimace. "He can keep coming around if he's going to pick trash off our sidewalk."

Hanji laughed a little. "You ready to go? I'll close up."

Levi shook his head. "I can't get back in my car like this. I need to shower first. Give me the keys. I'll close up."

Hanji tossed Levi the keys. "Remember to shut off all the lights. You know how Erwin gets when a light is left on. _The electricity bills_."

Levi nodded grimly. "Walk to your car. I'll watch you from here."

Hanji pulled on her coat. "How chivalrous of you." She teased. "Good night, Levi. Don't take a long shower or you'll get home nigh morning. Don't want anyone taking advantage of you."

Levi shooed her out the door. "The only people that take advantage of me are you and Erwin."

Hanji laughed as she walked into the parking lot. "That's true."

* * *

Mikasa sat on the edge of the bed in her scarlet dress, holding her scarf up over her mouth comfortingly as she murmured into her phone. "You haven't heard from him, then?"

"No." Sasha sounded apologetic. "He mentioned going to look for something after work but I didn't ask what since it looked as if he wanted it to be a surprise. Me and Connie were going to go after him but we went to go eat instead."

Mikasa pressed her lips together. "I'll try his cell phone again. Thank you, Sasha."

Before she could hang up Sasha spoke rapidly. "Mikasa—wait—you sound…" A pause. "You sound upset."

Mikasa shut her eyes, tightening her grip on her scarf. "I'm just worried. It's late and he isn't home yet…" She looked down at her pretty dress, her gold heels neatly strapped over her feet. She'd waited for him for _hours_. She'd planned this night for _weeks._

"Mikasa…did Eren…did he forget your anniversary?" Sasha was perceptive, even over the phone.

She spoke a little brokenly. "I…believe so."

Sasha sighed. "I'm sorry. Connie and I will go look for him."

"No." She cleared her throat. "Thank you, Sasha. I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Mikasa—"

She hung up.

She held her cell phone between her cold hands and watched the bright screen darken after several moments. She'd taken painfully careful measures for this night. She'd felt a little insecure in the tight, revealing red dress—but she'd seen Eren stare at it for a little too long on the mannequin. She almost always wore business suits or jeans and t shirts—and she'd wanted to look different tonight. She'd wanted him to _look_ at her.

The same way she'd seen him look at Annie.

Her hands had shook as she'd applied her eyeliner, as she'd painted her nails the same scarlet color as her dress. She'd fiddled with the pink glass of her strawberry scented perfume—a scent that Eren hated, but a perfume she loved.

She was Mikasa Ackerman. She was intelligent, skilled and composed. She was a level headed woman who'd intimidated people much more powerful than her.

But in front of Eren she was insecure. She was unsure. She couldn't put on makeup because he'd frown at it, had to be wary of her words so he wouldn't take offense. She had to switch her strawberry perfume for a lavender one.

She'd often wondered if he'd really _loved _her or if he'd simply grown _accustomed_ to her protectiveness. She'd often thought he'd more seen her as a bit of a bothersome nuisance than anything.

But then he'd asked her to marry him.

And that must have meant he really did love her.

Didn't it?

She quickly dialed Eren's cell phone and pressed it to her ear hopefully.

It rang once.

_I know he forgot our anniversary._

Twice. She grabbed her shimmery pink perfume bottle.

_Perhaps something came up to keep him preoccupied._

Three times. She pushed off the cap.

_What if something bad has happened to him and I'll I'm doing is sulking in a flimsy red dress?_

He answered the phone. "You can pick up your dratted jacket and cell phone tomorrow."

Mikasa frowned at the foreign voice. "Eren?"

A pause. "I'm assuming you're one of his friends. He left his jacket at our bar. He's scheduled to come tomorrow for his dancing lesson so don't bother picking it up now. We're closed."

_A bar? Dancing lesson?_

"Do you know where he happened to go?"

The man spoke crisply, irritably. "I do not keep tabs on every boy that walks into this bar. I'd have gone half mad by now. I'm in the middle of a shower and I had to step out to stop the phone's infernal ringing. I'll have Hanji call you in the morning since she was the one he was speaking too. She'll know more. Now if you'd kindly stop calling the stupid boys phone and let me shower in peace, it'd be greatly appreciated. Goodnight."

The phone clicked loudly.

Mikasa dropped her hand into her lap, feeling sick to her stomach. _Hanji? He was at a bar? Dancing lessons? _

Mikasa inhaled slowly.

"..._she was the one he was speaking too."_

_She._ Eren had gone to a bar. Eren had gone to a bar and had been speaking to another woman—on their anniversary. It was perhaps ridiculous for her to be so insecure when he'd asked her to marry him but she'd always felt something missing between them. They got along easily enough but sometimes the romance felt forced.

Sometimes she wondered why he never looked at her the way he had looked at _her._

She wondered why Eren and Annie had ever broken up. She wondered if maybe she'd been the second option.

Shakily, she stood, pulling on her thin sweater. She didn't bother changing—needed to get outside and not think.

She didn't want to think at all.

But she did anyway.

She dialed another number.

Her voice was muffled with sleep. "Mikasa?"

"Ymir…" Mikasa inhaled slowly. "Do you remember the dancing lessons you took with Krista all those years ago? Do you remember the address?"

She could hear some shuffling and a sleepy Krista ask who was calling at this time. "It's Mikasa. Go back to sleep." Ymir informed her, attempting to muffle the phone uselessly. "Do you remember that library we all went to when we needed to study?"

Mikasa remembered. "Yes."

"It's right across the street."

Which meant it was about three blocks away. "I remember now. Thank you."

"Is something going on?" Ymir asked gruffly.

"No. But thank you and I'm sorry for calling so late. Good night."

Ymir yawned. "Alright. 'Night."

Mikasa ended the call and slipped her phone into the pocket of her sweater. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep.

She spritzed on her old perfume, inhaling the soft scent deeply. Older, happier memories flooded her, an aching wistfulness filling her.

She might as well go for a walk.

* * *

Levi rubbed the towel over his damp hair quickly. It was well into the early morning now—three a.m., he saw as he glanced at the clock in his office. As he dressed he could hear the music Hanji had left playing, wondered about the dancing lesson tomorrow.

How long had it been since he'd given anyone a lesson?

How long had it been since he'd danced at all?

He was just pulling on a dark gray t shirt when he heard someone fiddle with the radio, skipping several songs and then turning up the volume.

He felt his skin prickle in alarm, becoming dead silent as he grabbed the small pistol in his desk drawer. He'd forgotten to lock the door before he'd gotten into the shower. He wouldn't be surprised if some idiots had wandered in and drank a few bottles. It had happened on a few occasions.

He slinked down the hallway carefully, his boots light and silent as they moved across the floor.

He heard the clinking of a glass bottle.

He peered around the corner, holding the gun aloft—and paused when he saw the intruder.

It was a young woman in a stunning scarlet dress, her black hair shimmering as she spun across the floor. Since they'd pushed aside all the tables and chairs the floor was completely bare for her, the mirrors on the walls reflecting her graceful image multiple times.

He lowered the gun, clicking on the safety as he tucked it into the back of his jeans. It was a strange sight, seeing a beautiful woman in a lovely dress dance alone.

He wondered what the hell she was doing here at this time.

She paused suddenly as she caught her own gaze in the mirror, her pale fingers clutching at an ill-fitting scarf wrapped about her neck—and her expression looked empty and hollow.

Yes, she was lovely, Levi admitted—but she looked wretched. He'd seen that same look in his own eyes one too many times.

She looked away from her reflection as the music changed, her feet effortlessly carrying her across the floor as she continued dancing alone.

And it was strange—but the night had been a strange one—but he didn't like the thought of someone so young and so lovely feel that same desolation.

He was a man who'd been through unspeakable things. He was a man who'd had nearly everyone dear to him ripped away violently. He was irritable and reserved and a little foul mouthed, sometimes a little too angry. He'd danced a few times because he'd been effortlessly good at it and it was good money but it had always been an obligation.

How long had it been since Levi had danced for pleasure?

How long had it been since he'd held a woman in his arms and moved with her across the floor, synched with her movements, connected their bodies?

The strawberry colored dress fluttered as she twisted, exposing her pale thighs.

He forgot the questions as he moved towards her.

* * *

She hadn't been able to _not _think—had only thought more as she'd walked the mostly empty streets. She'd wondered about what he'd been thinking—knew she wasn't in his thoughts at all—and her brain had spun it's strings into knots and tangles until she'd found herself in front of the bar/dance studio.

It was empty, obviously closed—but the lights were on, and she'd been able to hear the faint sound of music playing from outside the door. She touched the handle and had found it unlocked.

Was Eren perhaps still here?

She stepped into the warm studio and out of the cold night, observing the large room silently.

It was mostly just a large room with a polished wooden floor and mirrors for walls, a small bar pressed against the wall opposite from her.

"Hello?" She called quietly.

Nothing. Her heels clicked quietly as she made her way across the floor. She reached into her pocket and dialed Eren's phone—and it went straight to his voicemail.

She swallowed and put her phone down on the bar, neatly folding her sweater and placing it on the glossy counter. She reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle—some kind of wine, she observed carelessly—and she tilted it against her lips, drinking the bittersweet liquid deeply.

It was strawberry—strawberry wine.

Like her perfume.

She put the bottle back down with a clack—then eyed her reflection dully. Her makeup was still perfectly intact. The curl in her hair had fallen, the strands straight and fluid. The dress and shoes she'd wasted most of her check on were still snug over her body, and she looked prettier then she had ever cared to make herself—and she felt empty and ill and foolish.

Eren had forgotten their anniversary and had gone to a bar instead. He'd spoken to a woman at this very bar. _Hanji. _

She wondered if they'd danced.

He'd never wanted to dance with her.

She'd seen him dance once with Annie. He'd looked embarrassed and awkward and clumsy—but he'd looked happy.

She took another drink, swallowing several mouthfuls.

How long had it been since she'd danced with anyone? Her head spun pleasantly as she whirled across the floor, the alcohol beginning to creep in, muddling her thoughts.

She'd forgotten how it had felt to have someone dance with her.

She'd forgotten how it had felt to dance at all.

She was Mikasa Ackerman. She was always level headed and composed and collected. She was intimidating. She was skilled. A woman seen as untouchable.

But tonight she was just reckless enough to dance by herself in an empty bar, longing to be touched. Tonight she was just an insecure woman with a heart writing in insecurity and pain—a foolish girl in a scarlet dress. Tonight the scent of strawberries clung to her skin, and the taste lingered on her tongue.

Tonight she wouldn't think at all.

* * *

As Levi slunk closer he spotted the open wine bottle, saw the flush of the alcohol on her cheeks. Her eyes were shut as she danced, her breaths jagged—not from exertion, he knew, but from some jagged emotion tearing at her insides.

She danced well—not up to par with a professional like himself—but she danced well enough to keep him enthralled. Her movements were lithe, graceful, if a little reckless, her lush body temptingly wrapped in scarlet silk. The material was tight across her full breasts and hips—but the material flowed and fluttered about her pale thighs, her gold colored heels glittering in the low light.

The music spun faster and so did she until she lost her balance and stumbled over herself. Levi moved forward, catching her easily—felt her stiffen in his arms.

"Drinking and dancing often end with someone on the floor." He inhaled her sweet scent—strawberries, if he wasn't mistaken—and held her soft body within his arms for a moment too long before he straightened her.

She pushed away from him, crossing her arms over her chest, eyeing him warily. She was blushing, he noted with surprise.

He hadn't pinned her for the cautious type. Woman in skimpy red dresses who broke into bars weren't what he'd call wary.

He arched a brow. Just moments she'd been vulnerable and uninhibited, wanton and heated—and now she was visibly shutting herself away, all ice and wariness. "You're looking at me like that when you're the one who broke into my place."

Surprise flickered across her features briefly. "You…own this place?"

"If you want to get technical, no. A friend of mine does. If you want me to be honest then yes, I might as well have my named signed on the lease." He eyed her for a few moments. "What are you doing here, besides having a free drink?"

Her lips pressed together tightly as she spoke. For a split second it looked as if she'd been about to bite something out but she paused, a frown creasing her pale brow. "I…didn't want to think anymore."

He stayed tactfully silent.

The music continued to play rapidly about them.

She pulled up the scarf and held it pressed over her mouth, looking vulnerable yet withdrawn, small and almost childish.

She didn't want to think, he thought curiously. He knew what that felt like intimately, wretchedly too well. He held out his hand. "You dance well." He caught her large dark gaze. "So do I."

There was a brief moment where it seemed that she would refuse. He saw the way she shifted back ever so slightly, the way her eyes closed off—but then he saw her hesitate, her eyes tracing over his features. She seemed to see something he didn't quite understand, coming to a conclusion that was perhaps fueled by the wine swimming in her blood. Her eyes latched onto his mouth briefly, making the muscles in his body tighten, and then she looked back up.

She slipped her warm hand in his.

"Show me." She murmured softly.

He smiled darkly and pulled her closer, spinning her so that her back was pressed flush to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her when she stiffened in surprise. "Relax." He breathed the words against her skin. "Let me take control."

She softened against him, leaning her supple body against his. He positioned her arms correctly, framing her, sliding his hot palm down her arm, to her waist, settling it over her lower stomach possessively.

He glanced at her blushing expression in the mirror—and she broke her frame to readjust her slipping scarf.

Slightly irked, he grasped the red material about her neck and tugged it away—but she snatched his wrist, her nails biting into his skin.

"No." Her gaze was lowered, her voice cracking.

He arched a brow. "It's in the way." He tugged it off, exposing the pale column of her throat, revealing the thrashing pulse at the base, the elegant line of her collarbones. She seemed to struggle with herself as he threw it onto the counter—then slid his hand back over her flat stomach, letting his callused fingertips rasp over the cool silk.

He felt her shaky inhale and felt her abdomen shiver beneath his touch, saw the chills prickle across her skin, viciously pleased by her sensitivity.

He wanted to learn her slowly but the music was much too quick—but perhaps, Levi thought with uncharacteristic hopefulness, he could take his time discovering her later. Perhaps this could be more than just one night.

Perhaps he could have more for once in his life.

Their movements were a little jerky at first, then fluid, moving rapidly across the floor. He could feel his pulse speed up—not from exertion—but from the way she felt against him, the way her body easily moved _with _his.

Knew she'd move this easily when he had her beneath him.

The music reached its zenith and he spun her hard, tilting her backwards, bowing her over his arm—the movement took her by surprise and she instinctually tried to catch herself, her hands clutching at the front of his shirt, her leg hooking over his hip.

He held her steady beneath him, smiled at her a little arrogantly. "Did you think I'd let you fall?"

Her dark gaze flickered over his features again, almost wonderingly.

The song changed into a slower one, the beat steady, deep.

She looked at his mouth again.

And he wondered if her mouth would taste like the wine she'd drunk. He let his other hand slide across her stomach, dip into her waist and smooth over the flare of her wide hips. He slid it lower until his fingertips smoothed over the folds of her dress and onto the smooth skin of her pale thighs, hooking behind her knee and adjusting her grip around his waist.

She inhaled sharply, her petal pink lips parting.

But she didn't stiffen.

And she didn't move away.

He slid his hand back up to grasp at the inky, sleek strands of her hair, cupping the back of her skull. He angled her head beneath his, his mouth brushing over her bottom lip.

"Tell me your name." He breathed, smoothing his mouth over jaw.

Her voice was weak and thready. "Mikasa…"

He found the beating pulse at the base of her throat, breathed against it. "I'm Levi."

He moved back up and found her mouth parted for his, her hands slinking up to his hair. Her breath brushed against his mouth, the scent of strawberry wine filling his lungs as he moved to kiss her—when the sudden ring of a cell phone sounded shrilly.

The desire in her gaze was broken instantly.

Her hands tightened on the front of his shirt and pushed him away. He hesitated briefly but pulled her up back onto her feet, sent a black glare at her infernal cell phone. She answered it quickly and pressed it to her ear.

"Sasha?"

Levi lowered the music and tried to cool his blood. He'd let his passion get a little out of hand but he couldn't quite regret it. He would have had her if her bloody phone hadn't rung.

"Thank you. I'm on my way home…No, I just…went for a walk. I'm fine, Sasha. I'm not upset about it. Thank you. Good night."

Levi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching her darkly as she ended the phone call.

She was silent, her gaze cast downwards as she rewrapped her scarf and pulled on her thin sweater. She rummaged through her small wallet and pulled out a few bills, holding them out towards him.

"For the wine." She explained quietly, still refusing to look at him.

He shook his head. "Keep it. No one asks for wine here, anyway. They were mostly for decoration."

Her brow furrowed but she placed the money back in her wallet nonetheless. "I need to go…"

He cocked his head, observing her, sensing her hesitance. "Do you?" She struggled with herself visibly. He reached out, tracing her jaw with his fingertips. "You could stay." He slid his thumb over her bottom lip. "I can clear your head." He promised darkly.

She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I…I have a fiancé."

He went still. A fiancé. He let his hand fall away, crossing his arms again as he leaned against the wall once more. He raised his brows, a little surprised, a little stung. "Engaged, are you?" The words came out a little too harshly. "I couldn't tell by the way you were acting just now—drunk and dancing and wanton." _I damn near kissed you._

She clenched her jaw. "It was just a dance."

He watched her closely. "It seems so."

She pressed her lips together. "Thank you…for…dancing with me." She pulled up that dratted scarf again. "Thank you for the wine."

She was about to leave when he gestured for her to wait. He walked over and grabbed the mostly finished bottle and handed it to her.

"Strawberry wine—you can take it." He flicked her hair away from her face carelessly. "You smell like strawberries." He smirked when she blushed again. "It suits you." He wondered if she tasted like them, too.

She nodded curtly as she gripped the bottle to her chest. "Thank you…Levi."

He liked the way his name sounded when she said it. It was too bad he wouldn't be hearing her say it again. Yes, the night was a strange one. He nodded and turned away, feigning nonchalance. "Good bye, Mikasa."

* * *

**A/N-I hammered this out in a day. I ate strawberries the entire time. **


	2. Strawberry Taste

_A/N- Before anything I have two people in particular to thank._

_Andramion for a lovely drawing of Mikasa in her red dress & readartsleep-repeat for helping me with finding music and wonderful dance videos. _

_I have the art work posted on my tumblr and my profile. Thank you so much, love. You made me so very, very happy._

* * *

Eren peered over the kitchen counter as he washed dishes. Hannes had showered and ate and had fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd sprawled over his couch. Eren dried his hands and grabbed the spare blanket from the closet, throwing it over Hannes.

He sighed wearily. He should probably call Mikasa. He'd left his cell phone in his jacket pocket at the bar and he knew how she must have tried calling him. She was probably worried sick. He was a little surprised she wasn't here already.

He reached over to grab his house phone when there was a sharp knocking at his door. Frowning, he crept over as silently as he could. It was probably Mikasa—and he braced himself for her scolding. He opened the door—and felt the breath leave his lungs.

"Annie?"

Her blue eyes locked onto his for a split second—then lowered. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Eren?"

* * *

It took Mikasa several minutes to try and cool her body and mind.

What had she been thinking?

She pulled in an icy breath as she walked down the sidewalk, her breath fogging before her. She hadn't really realized where she was walking until she'd found herself in front of Eren's building, the apartment complex a little dilapidated, a little weary.

She glanced up at the fourth floor and at the window to the far right. His light was still on.

She felt unusually hesitant as she stood there, her grip on the bottle tightening.

Why hadn't she thrown it away? There was less than half left.

She wanted to knock on his door.

But there was something that held her rooted to the spot, something like guilt wrapping around her throat and lungs. Why had she danced with him? Had it only been the wine muddling her judgment?

No. She'd wanted to dance with him.

One second she'd felt such emptiness, such longing and she knew it wasn't only because Eren had forgotten a silly anniversary but the strain that had constrained their words, their silences, the way they looked at each other, the way they _didn't_. She wanted to fix it, and fix it badly but she didn't know how. She didn't know how to go about those things, always closed herself off when they got into arguments, her silence infuriating Eren.

But she didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to respond.

She just didn't want to feel so heavy hearted.

And she hadn't been paying attention to the dizzy swaying of her head, or the way her heels had tangled—and then she'd felt herself falling, hadn't really cared to try and right herself.

But she hadn't hit the ground.

He'd caught her.

And for a moment she almost thought she'd imagined someone holding her, almost imagined the hard feel of his chest against hers, against her cheek, the clean, soapy scent of clean male skin, the hard arms wrapped around her.

And the deepness of his voice had thrilled her in a way she'd never felt before.

She'd never danced with someone who could match her so well. She knew she was unusually athletic, knew that many men saw this as an insult to their manhood—but he'd taken control of their movements completely. His every step and push and pull had been strong, sure, sharp, both leading her and allowing her to move the way she'd always wanted to.

Had she ever danced with someone like she'd danced with him?

No. She hadn't. She had always had to restrain the weight of her turns, pull back her reins, forced herself to simply sway from side to side since her partner had never been able to do much more.

And with him…with Levi…She'd been able to spin as fast as she'd wanted, twisted as hard as her legs could twirl her, moved with years of leashed passion, let it all go—and he'd pushed her forward at the exact right moment, always held her up, pulled her back with enough force to perhaps send a weaker woman stumbling—and it had filled her with such wonder, such freedom and elation—and _confusion. _

She had wanted to kiss him.

She'd let him touch her, move her body, felt chills rake across her skin at the feel of strong hands, the words he'd spoken.

_Relax. Let me take control. _

And she had—but it had felt like freedom, too.

She'd felt weightless.

And now she felt the guilt paralyze her, crash down on her and bring her back to earth with a vengeance. And she couldn't see Eren. Not tonight.

She turned on her heel, still gripping the damp bottle as her heels clicked over the stone rhythmically. She'd just crossed the street and was about to turn the corner when she heard someone shout.

"Hey—stop, please, wait! Don't go."

Mikasa turned, almost slowly, almost unwillingly. She knew the sound of Eren's voice intimately well—heard the panic crack into his voice, felt her own anxiety surge up in response.

She saw a small woman wrapped in a dark coat standing on the sidewalk before Eren's door—where she had stood only moments ago—couldn't see the color of her hair because her hood was up, but she _knew, _knew who it was. Eren was a little breathless, obviously having ran down the stairs to catch up to her, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

But his eyes—those piercing eyes—were locked onto the woman in front of him, that fierce glint of determination shining brightly.

Yes, Mikasa knew who the woman was.

Because Eren had only ever looked at Annie that way—with a mixture of supplication, of wonder, determination and fierceness—and seeing it again made Mikasa feel sick to her very bones. She pressed herself against the wall of the building, her nails digging into the rough surface viciously as she tried to slow the pounding of her heart, tried to make herself invisible.

"Annie…Annie why are you here? I thought you said you were leaving the country and you weren't coming back—didn't you? So why are you here, Annie?" Eren straightened, stepping towards her angrily.

Annie shrugged carelessly, her hood beginning to slip back, her corn colored hair glowing beneath the streetlight incandescently. "I…came back." Annie turned away. "Decided to stop by."

Eren grasped her shoulders, shaking her violently, his voice cracking painfully. _"You decided to stop by?" _He pinned Annie back against metal of the streetlight, towering over her. "You make me fall in love with you, string me along for _two years_, then decide you're going out of the country and break up with me over the phone _minutes_ before you get on the airplane, telling me to forget about you, about us, about what we had because you weren't ever going to come back—and now you show up at my apartment at four in the morning because you _decided to stop by?_" Eren shoved her hood back, grasped the back of her hair in his fists, tilting her head back.

She should leave. Mikasa knew that but something didn't let her, some sadistic force keeping her rooted to the shadows as she watched the boy she'd loved since she was a girl, the boy who'd brought her back to life, the man she'd promised to marry, hold the only woman who had ever really owned his heart.

"How could you do that to me, Annie?" He sounded so horribly heart broken, his shaking visible even from where she was standing, tears gathering and dripping down his tortured expression. "Do you know what I went through the night you left? Do you know what I went through for _weeks, months _after you left?"

Annie looked oddly subdued, allowing Eren to pin her and yell at her, her expression hidden from Mikasa—but she saw her small pale hands travel up Eren's arms, gripping his sleeves.

No, Annie couldn't know what Eren had gone through. The only ones who had really known were her and Armin. She could remember it vividly—the sound of Armin's panicked voice over the phone.

_"Mikasa, Eren's at the airport and he got into a fight with a few of the security officers. The cops have him in hand cuffs—but Mikasa he won't calm down. He's not listening to me. He's just screaming for Annie, I think she left and he won't stop—"_

She'd hung up and ran, and when she'd finally gotten there it had been worse than she could have imagined. She'd known how much Eren had loved Annie. She'd seen it happen, seen it grow, even let Eren borrow her car for dates, had helped him buy an engagement ring for her—had bottled all of the agony she'd felt watching the boy she loved love someone else.

But it had been worth it, hadn't it? Because he'd been happy.

But then she'd left.

And he'd never really been the same since.

Eren mumbled something—and she couldn't quite catch the words but he dropped his head, their foreheads touching. Eren released his death grip on her, slid his hands down her back, tugging her towards him.

And she needed to leave.

_Why couldn't she move?_

She'd thought the same thing, been just as paralyzed when Eren had first kissed her. She'd watched over him for those months after Annie had left, washed his clothes, forced him to eat, forced him out of bed to go to school—and it had been one night after she'd come home to find him drunk and sprawled across the kitchen floor that he had suddenly changed the way he'd looked at her.

She'd helped him into bed and he'd pulled her down with him, clumsily cradled her jaw and she'd felt frozen as he hovered over her, everything in her locking into place.

"_Thank you, Mikasa. I'm sorry for making you worry. I think…I think I'm over it already. I think I'm ready."_

And she'd been pinned by invisible threads as he'd lowered his head, asking herself why she couldn't move, knew he was drunk, knew it was wrong.

But she'd loved him so very, very hopelessly. She loved him past the point of pride. Past the point of anything.

Annie lifted her hands, her fingers tangling in Eren's hair, their lips inches apart. Eren removed the band from Annie's hair, threading his fingers through the golden strands, whispering something, a disbelieving laugh breaking from his lips.

And past all of the things, images, memories ricocheting across her skull there was one thought that rose above them all, that wounded her like no other, that made her knees weak; Eren had never, ever looked at her that way.

She shut her eyes, stumbling forward, dragging her palm across the wall as she finally walked away.

* * *

Levi wasn't a spiritual man. He didn't believe in airy things like fate, or destiny—but, it had been a very strange night. He'd stumbled upon a beautiful, tortured wreck of a woman, had danced with her briefly, felt her skin, the scent of her clinging to him as if he'd bedded her, reminding him he hadn't, making him feel restless.

_Strawberries, _Levi thought to himself as he slid into his car. He wondered if he'd ever be able to see them without the memory of this night flickering within him.

It had simply been a chance meeting. She'd just been a young foolish girl in a scarlet dress, a little too drunk, a little too reckless, dancing alone and he'd been just captivated enough to dance with her.

Just one night, just for a few minutes he'd forgotten about who he was. But it was just one night. A drunken woman who'd stumbled into his bar.

No, Levi didn't believe in silly things like fate.

But he'd only driven for a few minutes before he found her again.

She was on her knees on the side walk, her hand pressed against a fence, her red skirt rucked up and haphazardly strewn about her thighs. He frowned and pulled over, stepping out and walking over to her quickly.

"Mikasa?"

She didn't look up, her frighteningly blank gaze turned inwards, her fingers twined about the fence wires tightly.

Levi lowered himself onto his haunches before her, pushing her hair aside. "Mikasa," He gentled his voice, his fingertips clutching her chin. "Did someone hurt you?"

He should have made sure she had a way to get home—he'd let the surprise of finding out she had a fiancé cloud his judgment, hadn't thought of the danger of a young, half inebriated girl in a scarlet dress walking home at three in the morning.

It took her much too long to respond, her voice thin. "No. I'm fine."

Her other hand was gripping the bottle he'd given her, and he saw that her knees were scraped raw—wondered how many times she'd fallen before she'd decided to stay crumpled in this spot. He sighed, removing his jacket and tugging it over her icy, bare shoulders. He slid one arm around her back, sliding the other beneath her knees. "Hold onto me." He lifted her in his arms, carrying her towards his car. He slid her into the passenger seat, clicking on her seatbelt.

He slid into the driver's seat and cranked up the heater, more for her sake then his. He kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye as he drove. "Would you like to tell me where you live?"

Her listless gaze was focused on the bottle in her hands, unseeing and unhearing. He breathed in through his nose, the scent of strawberries filling his car.

"If you don't speak up I'm going to take you back to my place."

She finally seemed to hear him, looking up. "I have…I have a fiancé."

He looked at her a little skeptically. "Do you? Then perhaps you should give him a call. Here." He handed her his cell phone crisply, stopping at a red light. "Go on." He prodded. "Tell your fiancé that you're drunk and in a strange man's car. Well, perhaps not so strange since we did just dance alone at a bar together, didn't we? I'm sure he'd be delighted to find out that his betrothed is drunkenly frolicking in bars and wandering the streets at four in the morning, having men pick her up because she decided to sit on the ground like a petulant child throwing a tantrum."

The light turned green.

She didn't take the phone.

He dropped the phone into the cup holder between them, driving through the lonely streets with ease and familiarity. When he spoke he gentled his tone. "If you have a fiancé, Mikasa, why isn't he with you now? Shouldn't he be the one bundling you into his car and taking you to his home?"

She turned away, looking out the window, her pale face reflected in the glass as she spoke quietly. "He's…he's with her."

Ah. Everything clicked into place as Levi turned into his drive way, and he inhaled deeply as he shut off the engine. He watched her carefully. "Your fiancé is with another woman, then?"

Her pale fingers gripped the neck of the bottle in a stranglehold. "He…still loves her. The way he looks at her…" She shut her eyes, dropped her head back, exposing her working throat.

It made sense now. The way she'd looked at him, when she'd said she didn't want to think, the recklessness of her actions one moment and her reservation the next.

He opened his door. "Can you walk?"

She swallowed thickly, nodding. He stepped out and opened her door, helping her out. He unlocked his door and pulled her inside, switching on the lights deftly. "Don't touch anything without permission. The spare bedroom is upstairs. I'll give you a change of clothes so you can shower, though, as you can understand, I do not have any clothing for women."

She nodded slowly, her gaze still lowered. "You live alone?"

He hung his keys up. "I do. Unlike yourself, I have no prior engagements that were conveniently omitted." He slid his jacket off of her and hung it up beside the door. "Come." He wrapped his arm around her slim waist, helping her up his wooden stairs. They'd made it about midway when she stumbled, her heel twisting. "Really," Levi muttered, tightening his grip around her. "Just like a child." He hefted her up against his chest, carrying her up the stairs swiftly.

He swept her into his bedroom, depositing her on the bed. "Stay put. Don't fall asleep." He rummaged through his drawers, tugging out a clean pair of black boxers and a black t shirt. He handed them to her, removing the wine bottle from her clutching fingers and placing it on the nightstand. "The towels are in the bathroom. There's a spare toothbrush in the sink drawer. Make sure to scrub all the dirt and blood from your knees, and, well, your body."

She stood a little unsteadily and he wondered if taking a shower in her state was a good idea—wondered if he'd find her passed out on the shower floor. She gripped the door knob to his bathroom door, then paused, peering at him from over her shoulder.

He was momentarily taken by her beauty, the dark curtain of her lashes, the deep black color of her eyes, of her hair, the bright flush on her pale cheeks, by the obvious frailty of her mind and heart. At the moment she didn't look like an inebriated woman who'd stumbled into his bar looking for distraction—she looked like a broken bird. "Thank you…for doing this for me. I'll repay the favor." She opened the door and slipped inside the bathroom, shutting it quietly behind her.

* * *

Levi had just finished peeling the dark gray comforter off his bed when Mikasa finally emerged from shower, the steam clinging to her body as she stepped into his bedroom.

He'd been about to snap that it was about damn time she got out when the bareness of her legs silenced him. His shorts fit him neatly but on her they were snug, the flare of her hips raising the hem to the very tops of her thighs, exposing sinfully long legs. His black t shirt fit her perfectly, if not a little tight across her full chest, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide her lovely figure. Her damp black hair fell about face prettily, her skin clean and dewy.

He looked away, snapping a towel over his sheets. "Come. Sit. I need to clean your scraped knees before you go to bed—in the spare bedroom." He grabbed a small first aid kit, rummaging through it as she sat. "Put your legs up over the towel. Knees up. Gods know how much shit you have embedded in your skin." He wiped her scraped knees with an alcohol wipe, gentling when she flinched. She'd placed her head on his pillow and he arched a brow. "Your hair is wet." He threw her another towel.

She caught it, folding it beneath her head. "I can clean my own wounds."

He made a short sound of disbelief, tearing open two gauze pads. "You couldn't even make it up the stairs. I very much doubt your ability to clean and disinfect your wounds properly. Do you know how filthy sidewalks are?"

She looked away, her eyes examining his neatly organized room a little drowsily. "You…like cleanliness, I see."

He nodded, taping the thin gauze over her knees carefully. "Unfortunately not many people do."

She glanced at him, a little sadly, a little sleepily. "You're a kind man, aren't you Levi?"

He paused. "I wouldn't exactly be pope material," He muttered flippantly, throwing the wipes and paper away. "But neither am I the sort of man who'd leave a young girl out on the street." She looked up at him and he held her gaze as he spoke. "You're rather trusting. I could have murdered you by now."

She tilted her head, and he finally saw a dark glint of humor seep into her eyes, found the sight oddly enchanting. "I'm not as helpless as I seem."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that." He narrowed his eyes as he spotted another bloody splotch on her left ankle. "Hell—how many times did you fall?" He bit out, rummaging through the small kit. He tore open another alcohol wipe, gently and thoroughly wiping her bloody ankle. "I'm out of gauze. I have another kit in the kitchen down stairs. Don't move—and don't fall asleep."

He walked out of his bedroom and down the stairs, wondering what the hell he was doing taking a strange woman into his home and bed—without the intention of sleeping with her, anyway. He grabbed the kit and placed it on the small island, clicking it open and searching for gauze.

_"You're a kind man, aren't you Levi?"_

He shook his head. She was an idiot if she thought him as any kind of saint, or any inch kind.

But he had been kind to her, hadn't he?

He didn't really understand it himself, could perhaps chalk it up to simple, primitive male attraction—but he knew it was something a little deeper. He'd seen her expression, that dull look in her gaze, heard the pain in her voice when she'd said _I didn't want to think anymore _and it had made him unable to shut her out, unable to simply kick her out of the bar like he should have done.

He shook his head, unable to understand his own actions, grabbing two bottles of water on his way out of the kitchen. He climbed up the stairs and entered his bedroom. "I brought you water—perhaps it'll help sober you." He silenced himself when he looked at her, her body curled tightly in the center of his bed, her eyes shut, her breathing deep and easy. "You're asleep." He muttered, placing the bottles down. "I told you not to bloody fall asleep." He sighed, tearing open the gauze quietly. He grabbed her scraped ankle, carefully applying the gauze over it.

He tossed the wrapper away, tugging the towel off the pillow and out from underneath her body. Her head—and wet hair—was on _his _pillow, so he scooted her over a little, tugging the comforter over her. He stood looking over her for a few moments, wondering if he should sleep in the guest room.

Like hell. First she breaks into _his_ bar, drinks _his_ wine, spends the night in _his_ home and then takes _his_ bed for herself? A gentleman might've let her sleep alone—but he was no bloody saint and this was _his_ bed. He shut the light off, slipping in beside her.

He eyed the back of her dark head, tried not to think of how close she was. Yes, it had been a while since Levi had had a woman in his bed. And he'd never had a woman sleep in his bed—and _just _sleep. He turned, facing away from her and shutting his eyes, eyeing the now light blue of the fading night sky.

Levi usually had trouble sleeping but as the muscles in his back and arms softened and relaxed, lulled by the sound of her deep breathing and the unfamiliar and welcome warmth against his back, he slipped into slumber as soon as he shut his eyes.

* * *

It was hours later that Mikasa woke, giving a little start when she felt hard arms wrapped around her, the length of his body pressed against her back. She felt his breath against the back of her neck, ruffling her hair gently.

"You still smell like strawberries." She heard him murmur. "Go back to sleep."

She was too tired to do anything else.

* * *

Levi woke hearing the persistent buzzing of his cell phone. He muttered a curse beneath his breath, rolling over—finding his bed empty. He fumbled over the night stand until he found his dratted phone, punching the answer button viciously.

"What is it?"

"It's three in the afternoon." Hanji spoke much too energetically, her words jumbled and rapid. "Did you get home okay? You're late. You're never late. I was worried maybe you'd been kidnapped or mugged and were unconscious in an alley somewhere. Erwin is actually heading over there since you weren't answering your phone and well, you know, Erwin's all business when it comes to these sorts of things." He could hear music playing in the background; hear the way Hanji's shoes squeaked over the floor. "Did you forget about the dancing lesson? The couple today at seven?"

Levi peered at the alarm clock on his nightstand. "A couple? I thought it was just that brat?"

"No, no, no." Hanji sung, audibly chewing something. "He's bringing his girlfriend, I think, or something of the sort. I was half distracted by the way you were beating that poor man."

Levi sat up, scanning his room—but she was nowhere to be found. There was the scent of freshly cooked food lingering in the air however, making his stomach rumble willfully. "He was a drunken homeless man trespassing on our property after hours." He shoved the blankets away. "I just woke. I'll be there shortly."

He ended the call, wandered out of his bedroom and down stairs.

Where the devil was she?

He checked for his wallet, his car keys, his car—everything was still in place. It didn't look as if she'd robbed him blind in his sleep—but it looked as if she'd left. He entered the kitchen, finding an impressive arrangement of various breakfast plates. Hash browns, toast, eggs, pancakes and waffles—topped with fresh strawberries. There was a small envelope propped against a tall mug of coffee, his name written in a sharp pretty scrawl across the front.

He forked several slices of strawberries into his mouth as he read.

_Thank you for watching over me last night. I had to leave for work early this morning but I managed to make you breakfast as an attempt to express a fraction of my gratitude. I didn't know what you would or wouldn't like so I made several plates. I left a check in the hopes that it would cover whatever I took. Thank you, again. I'm grateful to have met a man like you. _

_~Mikasa Ackerman_

He swallowed the strawberries. He supposed he'd never find out if she tasted like them. Levi put the fork down, taking the small letter with him as he climbed back up his stairs.

Perhaps it was better this way, he mused, pulling his shirt off as he headed into the shower.

_I'm grateful to have met a man like you. _

If she'd known how much of screw up he was she'd call herself lucky to have escaped him.

* * *

Mikasa was just stepping out of her office when she found Eren standing outside the door. She blinked at him a little owlishly, felt her pulse become erratic and weak. He looked a little subdued, a little forlorn, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"Mikasa…can we talk?"

She knew, of course she did. She'd seen it last night. She knew what he was going to tell her.

Her heart screamed for her to walk away, to maybe step back into her office, shut the door, but she'd only postpone the inevitable.

_Not yet. _

But she only nodded.

Eren smiled, the expression a little strained. "I had Armin drop me off so we could go in your car."

Mikasa fell into step beside him, tugging her keys out of her purse, tried to hide the shaking of her hands. "Go where?" They tapped down the tile stairs briskly.

"I have something planned for you and me today." He swallowed. "Something…to make up for yesterday."

She froze, her hand gripping the railing. "Yesterday…" He was going to confess. He was going to tell her what happened between him and Annie. He was going to tell her she was back and he was still in love with her and that he was sorry but he couldn't keep being with her—

And suddenly she was in his arms, her face pressed against his throat, and his words were coming out rushed and broken. "I'm sorry, Mikasa." His hand clutched at the back of her head tightly. "I'm sorry for forgetting our anniversary."

_Their anniversary? _

"Eren—last night I—"

"Sasha told me everything. I'm so sorry. It's just I found Hannes drunk on the side walk and I took him home and I left my cell phone and I just completely forgot, Mikasa, and I'm so sorry."

She was a little too stunned, a little too bewildered to respond, her hand simply bunching the back of his jacket, inhaling his familiar scent, the scent of home. "It's…okay, Eren."

Why hadn't he confessed? Why hadn't he left her already and gone running to Annie?

Why wasn't she relived that he hadn't?

"I'll make it up to you." He grabbed her hand, dragging her down the steps—paused once they reached the bottom. "Though, I'm not sure if you're dressed for it."

She frowned, looking down at her white button up shirt tucked into her dark gray pencil skirt. She had her hair twisted up because it had been hopelessly crimpled and limp, and she wore small sensible heels—nothing like the heels she'd worn last night. She really didn't think her outfit wasn't _in_appropriate for anything except for maybe hiking.

"Where are we going, Eren?"

He smiled at her brightly, and it had been such a long time since he'd smiled at her that way that she forgot about everything that was wrong, letting him pull her out of her work building like he always had when they were children. "You'll see."

* * *

"I thought you didn't offer dancing lessons anymore, Levi?" Erwin spoke a bit distractedly, sipping at his steaming coffee as they walked away from the coffee shop and back towards their studio.

Levi eyed Erwin from the corner of his eye. "I thought you didn't drink coffee anymore."

Erwin smiled a little. "Still defensive, I see. Are you still going to keep what happened this morning a secret?"

Levi pressed his lips together in displeasure. "I simply slept in a little later than usual."

Erwin was about to push but his phone rang. He answered it, holding it to his cheek with his shoulder, holding his coffee with both hands to warm them. "We're right outside, Hanji." He drank his coffee. "Eren? Is that the boy who came for dancing lessons?"

Levi sighed, checking the time. It was six forty-five.

"He'll be right in." He ended the call, slipping his phone back into his coat pocket. "Eren and his fiancée are waiting for you."

Levi arched a brow, reaching out to grasp the handle. "That brat has a fiancée?"

They entered the studio and when Levi spotted the young couple conversing with Hanji he froze.

Of course, Levi thought. _Of course. _

"Ah, Levi, come here." Hanji dragged the couple towards him instead, oblivious to his—and _her_—complete shock. "You remember Eren, right? Well this is Mikasa. They want to practice for their wedding dance."

He met her gaze, felt his jaw clench, his breath quickening as he remembered the smooth suppleness of her skin, of her body beneath his hands, the way she'd felt against him, the scent of strawberries that had lingered on his jacket, in his bed, in his car. The way he'd woken with her in his arms, the sensation of holding someone almost completely foreign, but not all together unpleasant, remembered the sound of her little sighs whenever he'd adjusted her against him.

And for a blind moment he was livid—almost furious, enraged that this maddening woman could keep doing this to him, that of all the women the brat could have been engaged to it _had _to be her. That he would have to watch them together when he wanted her for himself.

She looked different today. Last night she'd had her hair loose and wildly tangled, her make up darker, more pronounced and alluring, her dress revealing and scarlet and now she was all business, her snug pencil skirt and button up shirt neatly tailored, her shoes low and sturdy, her hair up in a neat coil that irked him to no end, her image that of a severe and intimidating business woman.

He felt his gaze slip to her pink lips, saw the way her breathing hitched in response and for just a moment he wondered what she'd do if he kissed her now, because if he didn't find out what she tasted like soon he'd go mad

He'd wondered if she'd tasted like strawberries, he recalled. But he knew that all of this would taste only of venom.

His rage iced over quickly, his brain finally spinning, working, the cogs turning. He inhaled deeply, holding out his hand to her, his gaze a challenge. "It's nice to meet you, Mikasa." He gripped her hand much too tightly, felt her nails bite into his skin in warning. "Rather feels like we've met before, hasn't it?"

* * *

**A/N-This wasn't supposed to be a multi chapter thing but that is what I usually tell myself before I start merrily tapping away. I want to keep it short but I know I'm probably going to make this into a friggin' monster. Also, I'm going to do the thing (again) where I sort of address all of the people who reviewed. I can only do this when it stays under 20 reviews, mind you. Stormy doesn't want her fingers to fall off. I almost like when I get a small amount of reviews because I can talk to you all. **

**Midori Aoi-I like making people writhe with the need for more. Oh my, that sounds terribly lewd. But, unintentional flirtation and double meanings aside, I'm very glad to have gained a fan (does that sound pompous because if it does I swear it wasn't my intention) and I genuinely hope I can keep you. I'll work very hard to do so. **

**ProdigyMeetsStrongestShorty-(ur pen name made me laugh it's friggin' adorable) I had to make the phone ring! Can't make it too easy now, can I? I'm glad I got such a response from you. **

**Dyingimmortal-_Thank you. _I know the whole love triangle thing and cheating is a touchy subject for a lot of people and I'm glad you were open minded enough to like my story anyway. I love the way you described my writing. You're too kind. **

**Ami90-So you like angst, do you? You've come to the right place then because I intend for a bit more torture. I like complications. **

**Featherelly-I think everyone is cursing the phone (which is making me laugh) and I want to really thank you because you almost always review my works and spoil me with compliments. I kind of think of you as a distant friend. I hope you liked this chapter. You're pretty.**

**Anna-"I love your Levi. He is so perfect." My Levi? Ahhh, explain (stormy is not so subtly fishing for more compliments) what do you mean _my_ Levi? I love writing from Levi's point of view. You'll probably find that I stick to him most of the time. If I don't it's because I'm forcing myself not to. So thank you.**

**Ghost-Thank you for advising me on that. I'll try to keep it in check-and thank you for being kind about it. I like the whole 'mastered the art of writing sexual tension' bit I was like, yes, Stormy is a sex goddess. No actually I kind of laughed because I'm just a stuffy book worm.**

**Chinarai-I'm a little in love with you. I'm not kidding. Your name is another one of the ones I see pop up a lot and whenever it does I kind of stroke the screen fondly (and perhaps a little oddly) and wish I could give you something. Thank you so much. You're perfect. I may or may not check out your work if you don't mind.**

**Silverashtrees-I wrote more, as requested, Milady. Thank you for liking it.**

**Alyxielle-Friend! (We've talked only a handful of times but in my head you are _friend_) Thank you. I rather think Mikasa thinks that way in cannon too. I was going for bittersweet so I'm glad I hit it correctly. I'm sorry! I'll try to keep the heart break to a minimum just for you. **

**Paranoid--It's being continued! **

**The turquoise-_Thank you, thank you_**

**Plate Captain-(that picture made me both laugh out loud and very confused)thank you for liking it! I hope you liked the update? **

**Rivamika 5ever-(stormy approves of this name) don't make that face! See? It's being continued. Smile. Unless you hate it or something. Then you can bash me. **

**RedBloom-Your request has been answered and I'm relived that you liked it. Thank you for encouraging me to write an AU because I was on the fence about it until you pushed me over. **

**I'm sorry for writing so much down here. I just wanted to thank everyone individually. You're all so very kind to me. I really do adore you all. **


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